Next he begins throwin' a fit about what's goin' to become of the missus and the kid. Say, I've been in at two or three acts like this before, and I gen'rally notice that at about such a stage they play that card, the wife and kid. Your real tough citizen don't, nor your real gent,--they shuts their mouths and takes what's comin' to 'em,--but Mr. Weakback has a sudden rush of mem'ry about the folks at home, and squeals like a pup with his tail shut in the door. "Ah, say," says I, "cut it out! You ought to move up to Harlem and learn to pound the pipes. You're a healthy plunger, you are, sneakin' bonds out of the safe to stack up against a crooked game, and then playin' the baby act when you lose out! Come now, ain't that the awful thing that's happened to you?" He couldn't have opened up freer if he'd been put through the third degree. I gets the story of his life then, with a handkerchief accomp'niment,--all about the house he's tryin' to buy through the buildin' loan, and the second-hand bubble he wants to splurge on 'cause the neighbors have got 'em, and how he was tipped off to this sure thing in Blitzen by a party that had always been a friend of his but couldn't get hold of the stuff to turn the trick himself. He put in all the fine points, even to the way he came to have a chance at the safe. "If I could only put them back!" says he, sighin'. "What then?" says I. "Next time I s'pose you'd swipe the whole series, wouldn't you?" If you could have heard him tell how good he'd be you'd think practicin' a little crooked work now and then was the only sure way to learn how to keep straight. "Piddie," says I, "I don't want to hurt your feelin's, but you act to me like a weak sister. If I was to do what the case calls for, this thing ought to go to the boss." "Please don't, Torchy! Please don't!" says he, scrabblin' down on his hands and knees. "Nix on that!" says I. "This is no carpet-layin' bee. I'm no squealer, anyway; besides, I had a little interview with Mrs. Piddie and the kid this noon, and after seein' them I can't rub it in like you deserve. What I've seen and heard I'm goin' to forget. Now sit up straight while I break the news to you gentle. I went down there to-day, just as you told me." "Yes, I know," he groans, squirmin'. "But I didn't like the looks of the joint; so I didn't dump the bonds. There they are. Now see they get back where you found 'em!" Talk about your hallelujah praise meetin's! Piddie was havin' one, all by himself--when the inside door opens and Mr. Roberts steps out of his office. "I'll take care of those bonds, Mr. Piddie," says he. Chee! what a stunner! Mr. Robert had been in there all the time, writin' private letters, and had took in the whole business.